All the way back to Quebec Brent thought of Gale, trying to devise some way to bring back her memory. He thought of her parents and wondered how he would ever break the news to them. How, too, he would tell the other Adventure Girls.

That night he and his pilot flew back to Marchton. Early the next morning he went to Gale’s parents and told them. The decision made was that they should fly back to Canada with him the same night.

When school was out and the Adventure Girls and three boys wended their way to the Kopper Kettle they found Brent already there awaiting them. Eagerly they crowded round him, welcoming him back and asking the now almost hopeless questions about Gale.

He was silent, answering not one question until they were all seated about a table in the corner. Then he began slowly:

“Yes, I was successful. I’ve found Gale.”

“She isn’t——” Valerie began fearfully.

“She is perfectly happy,” he said.

“Thank goodness!” Carol sighed, inadequately expressing the feelings of them all.

“But you don’t look very happy about it,” Janet put in. “Did you bring her home with you?”

“No, I couldn’t bring her home with me,” Brent said, carefully tearing a straw into minute bits with his finger, “you see, she didn’t know me.”

The others waited, instinctively guessing there was more important news to come.

“Why not?” Madge finally ventured.

“In the crash of the plane she—lost her memory. She has been living all this time with a Canadian man and his sister in their cottage. She is perfectly well except for the fact that she doesn’t remember a thing about who or what she is.”

“Poor Gale!” Carol murmured.

“Can’t anything be done?” Bruce asked.

“I am flying her parents and a doctor back with me tonight,” Brent answered. “Her memory may come back to her all in a flash, a sudden shock might do it, or it might take time. I don’t know.”

“Can’t we do something?” Janet wanted to know anxiously. “I mean, do you think she might remember if she saw one of us?”

“Show her Janet, that would be a shock!” Carol suggested, daringly impudent.

Brent laughed with the rest but then he shook his head. “When she sees her parents she should remember—if anything familiar can restore her memory.”

“If she didn’t know you——” Phyllis began.

“What was it, Brent?” Bruce asked. “The shock of the crash? The limb of the tree that fell upon the plane or what?”

“I suppose we will never know,” Brent said. “It must have been one of those.”

“Isn’t it terrible?” Valerie murmured with a little shiver. “Think of Gale, not knowing who she is, where she came from. I wish I could go to her.”

The others were silent until Brent rose saying he must get back to the Howard home for dinner. Phyllis went out with him. He left her at the corner and entered the yard of Gale’s home. Strange she could remember none of this, he thought. The flowers which in summer ran as a border to the walk, the old tree by the fence, her home, the place where she had lived all her life.

Dinner was a hurried, hap-hazard affair. Gale’s parents and Brent were eager to be off to the airport. He told them again of his finding and by that time they were ready to leave.

Upon coming out to the porch they discovered Phyllis in woolly coat and beret with a small bag at her side sitting on the top step.

“Where do you think you are going?” Brent demanded.

“With you, please, mayn’t I?” Phyllis begged. “I’ve told my Aunt I’m going and she didn’t stop me. Please take me, I want to see Gale.”

Brent looked at the Howards and back to Phyllis.

“Oh, well, come along,” he said gruffly.

They climbed into the Howards’ automobile and five minutes later picked up the grey-haired family doctor who had known Gale since she was three. He had helped her through every sickness but nothing as serious as this. It did not take long after that to reach the airport.

The cabin plane they were to use was standing on the field, the motor turning over rhythmically, the propeller whirring. Stubby helped them into the plane and when Brent had taken his seat up in the nose of the ship beside the pilot they were off.

In Canada they landed and went immediately to a hotel where they were to spend the night. Brent had thought it best to wait until the following morning before driving to the little village from where they would go to Bouchard’s cottage. He was a little dubious as to the outcome of their trip. He hoped fervently, as did the others, that Gale would recognize them but he had his doubts.

The next morning they breakfasted early and entered the car in which they were to drive to the little French-Canadian village. The driver of the car was the same one who had driven Brent on his previous trip. Though he was not fond of the man or his companionship Brent had hired him because he already knew the way.

It was nearly lunch time when they entered the little village. Without a stop they came upon the road that led away to the north and followed it to its end. Then, leaving the driver with the car, they set out on foot.

The Howards were silent, thoughtful, and Phyllis, walking beside Brent, felt her heart begin to beat with excitement. They had come so many miles, suppose now they discovered that Brent had been mistaken in his identity? She rebuked herself sharply. How could he have been mistaken? He had heard the Frenchman’s story. But if only Gale would recognize one of them! Phyllis thought she must. She looked up at Brent. He was looking away, ahead of them, his eyes fastened on the little crest of ground beyond which lay the Bouchard cottage. Phyllis thought he looked older, worried. She knew he had suffered even more than she and Gale’s other friends had because, in a way, he blamed himself for the crash and Gale’s disappearance.

Brent held up his hand and they halted for a brief rest.

“You can see the smoke from the cottage,” he said, motioning ahead with his hand to where a thin stream rose into the sky.

The others did not reply, merely glanced at one another and moved forward again.